Hello and Welcome.
Today has been good so far, plenty left of it, but for now I must stay out of the sun.
After ten minutes outside, the skin on my chest began to prickle and now the blisters are raising themselves up and causing me grief.
I need to get this sorted out. I have to avoid the sun or else take
anti-histamines which do help but only because they make me fall asleep so I avoid the sun completely. I'm sick of dreaming away summer days on the couch. Sick of waking up at 8.30 in the evening knowing there is no chance of sleep later on, sick of waking up after strange dreams of Noel Edmonds and strange houses.
However, despite my quarrel with the sun, today has been good.
Me and Dad watched the children run in the park.
They automatically went to the tiny, crooked, apple-tree which was my favourite as a little girl. It made me feel sad and happy. Happy in that they went straight for the same tree that I used to pretend to be Tarzan in (no Barbie nonsense for me) but sad in that I can remember being there, with my own Mum watching me and those days are long gone. The child I was is gone. And some day the boys will be gone as they are now. It makes me want to really live in the moment with them but it is so hard, painful almost when you know these moments are quickly lived and quickly forgotten.
Eldest scraped his head getting down from the tree. At one point he jammed it in the crook of a bough so tightly that his body swung freely. Silly boy. Youngest took it upon himself to disappear into the undergrowth, yet again. Bad boy. A nice lady found him for me. I need a tazer gun to control my infants. Is that normal?
A wasp crawled in between my foot and my sandle and died what I am sure was an unpleasant death. Rather him than me.
We ate cold sausage rolls and mostly salt-flavoured Scotch egg type things. I know they're not actually 'Scotch Eggs'.
Nick knows the differences between all these party / buffet snacks so I should ask him, I think they're called savoury eggs.
Unpleasant, whatever they're called. When they're cold you can feel the fat adhere to the roof of your mouth. Makes me less keen to eat them warm though which can only be a good thing given my double chin.
So that's it from me. I have reviewed my first ever journal entry and have decided to rename myself Yawn McBore.
After ten minutes outside, the skin on my chest began to prickle and now the blisters are raising themselves up and causing me grief.
I need to get this sorted out. I have to avoid the sun or else take
anti-histamines which do help but only because they make me fall asleep so I avoid the sun completely. I'm sick of dreaming away summer days on the couch. Sick of waking up at 8.30 in the evening knowing there is no chance of sleep later on, sick of waking up after strange dreams of Noel Edmonds and strange houses.
However, despite my quarrel with the sun, today has been good.
Me and Dad watched the children run in the park.
They automatically went to the tiny, crooked, apple-tree which was my favourite as a little girl. It made me feel sad and happy. Happy in that they went straight for the same tree that I used to pretend to be Tarzan in (no Barbie nonsense for me) but sad in that I can remember being there, with my own Mum watching me and those days are long gone. The child I was is gone. And some day the boys will be gone as they are now. It makes me want to really live in the moment with them but it is so hard, painful almost when you know these moments are quickly lived and quickly forgotten.
Eldest scraped his head getting down from the tree. At one point he jammed it in the crook of a bough so tightly that his body swung freely. Silly boy. Youngest took it upon himself to disappear into the undergrowth, yet again. Bad boy. A nice lady found him for me. I need a tazer gun to control my infants. Is that normal?
A wasp crawled in between my foot and my sandle and died what I am sure was an unpleasant death. Rather him than me.
We ate cold sausage rolls and mostly salt-flavoured Scotch egg type things. I know they're not actually 'Scotch Eggs'.
Nick knows the differences between all these party / buffet snacks so I should ask him, I think they're called savoury eggs.
Unpleasant, whatever they're called. When they're cold you can feel the fat adhere to the roof of your mouth. Makes me less keen to eat them warm though which can only be a good thing given my double chin.
So that's it from me. I have reviewed my first ever journal entry and have decided to rename myself Yawn McBore.